


Monster in the Village

by decaf_kitty



Series: Hunting Ghosts, Taming Monsters [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Missing-Nin Hatake Kakashi, On Hiatus, Parent Umino Iruka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decaf_kitty/pseuds/decaf_kitty
Summary: Kakashi Hatake, once a missing nin, is now integrating back into Konoha. He has nine years of trauma to overcome. Fortunately Iruka Umino is there to help him through the process. But... Kakashi is discovering that his time as a missing nin is not nearly as terrifying as living with and falling further in love with Iruka.{On hiatus!}
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Series: Hunting Ghosts, Taming Monsters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602436
Comments: 67
Kudos: 346





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy. Any and all feedback is appreciated.
> 
> ___

_Do not hunt Iruka._

_Iruka is not prey._

It was easy to think of him that way. The man was defenseless; he was vulnerable. The Sharingan ticked through every time they’d visited Iruka Umino while he was asleep: it was a dozen different times, each and every one of them echoing the same detail. The chūnin-sensei was the same asleep as awake. Too sweet for a shinobi, too warm for a man with such scars. 

He did not know about the blood stain on his rooftop, the woman Kakashi killed for him. It was one of the thousand secrets tucked away within Kakashi he would never tell the man. The Sharingan showed him the dual vision of his clone distracting Danzo’s assassin and simultaneously his real self stabbing her with a kunai between two vertebrae, severing her spine and brain stem. She bled oddly, a consequence of an unknown jutsu. After Kakashi tossed her corpse in the woods and saw carrion birds take her apart, he returned to the rooftop to clean up the mess of her death.

Although he rarely worried about his derelict traitor attire, he found himself scrubbing at the slates for several hours that shadowy night. The habit was familiar, something he did with his ANBU uniform, perfecting and polishing it before he put it on. But this was new - this wasn’t his.

Still, he tried to remove the stain until his skin broke, and then he bled on the rooftop, too.

Iruka looked up at him.

Kakashi did not startle; he did not stiffen. But his throat closed. His heart clenched like a fist.

The man had finished tonight’s grading. Now his eyes were searching, seeing deep inside Kakashi, but finding what, it was impossible to tell. It was always frightening when Iruka looked at him like this, because there always seemed to be the chance that this moment was the last. 

It was only a matter of time.

Eventually Iruka would see.

He would see Kakashi was a monster.

Iruka seemed a little blinded… but by what… Kakashi could not determine. Irrefutably, Iruka had survived many missions – they verified that back when they confirmed Naruto’s teacher wasn’t working for the Foundation – and he had definite skill as a shinobi. Certainly Iruka had less proficiency than those Kakashi usually dealt with, but that was a relief. If Iruka was jōnin, Kakashi would never let down his guard. But, as a chūnin, a sensei, the man wore no disguise as he walked the world, in contrast to jōnin, who were deceptive and delighted in role-switching. 

He killed the reflex to open his Sharingan. The last nine years, he’d trained in intermittent use of the dōjutsu, straining his chakra but allowing better analysis of the threats all around him.

Iruka was not a threat.

But he could easily be hunted.

Kakashi knew so because he had done it a lot.

He had hunted Iruka a lot.

But now a S-ranked mission scroll sat on the kitchen counter beside Iruka’s cooking utensils; it stated Kakashi should not continue his task into its tenth year and instead fold back into the village he’d been secretly preserving. Admittedly, he’d become distracted with Iruka Umino... While the Third Hokage had not known all of his obsession, he had been skeptical of Kakashi’s excuses… why Kakashi kept circling around the same apartment complex, why suddenly he more often reported about the Academy, why he seemed especially cold when Hiruzen suggested that…

_You have a crush on Iruka._

He’d never experienced that until now. Of course, he knew of crushes: they happened to kids. He wasn’t a kid, maybe he had never been one, he wasn’t sure anymore. Undoubtedly, he felt old, very old, and this shouldn’t be happening to him, so brokenly timeworn as he was. 

Nevertheless… a weird tingly feeling overcame him whenever he thought about Iruka Umino. 

It was like dainty little birds singing in the sunlight.

Like two squirrels nuzzling together in the pale cold of winter.

Like a stag following a doe wherever she went, his eyes only on her, his heart now fully hers.

“Are you tired? Should we go to sleep?” 

As had happened so many times before, Kakashi felt his thoughts fade away when faced with Iruka in his bare honest state. He stared, with his own eye, at the other man. There was a softness to the chūnin that made Kakashi feel sharp and angular like broken glass, and he once again wondered if he would cut Iruka to pieces in their new fulltime nearness to each other. 

But Kakashi simply nodded, standing up from the table, and waited for Iruka to walk ahead of him. Moments like these made him particularly think about hunting: a tender glance from Iruka back to him provoked his years and years of tracking experience. The second Iruka turned around and strode into the bedroom, Kakashi opened the Sharingan and assessed the shinobi.

It would be easy to kill Iruka.

Yet Kakashi’s brain, well woven with the dōjutsu, thought not at all about murder.

Instead, he considered pushing Iruka against the wall and grinding into him from behind, pulling down his own mask and licking at the man’s nape below his pony tail, slipping his hands into the front of Iruka’s pants and touching his waiting lovely cock, eliciting the sweet shy huffs of breath that haunted Kakashi so so badly so very much, and seeing again Iruka’s teary dark eyes simmer as he hit his peak and his beautiful blush rush down his scarred cheeks to his neck and –

Iruka glanced back at him again.

Kakashi did not stiffen; he did not flinch. But he felt his own cheeks heat under his mask.

_Surely I wasn’t caught staring._

Ah, but he was, because Iruka was looking at him more peculiarly now, and Kakashi had the unsettling impulse to back up, step away, run away, like he was actually afraid of Iruka Umino.

No, that wasn’t true. 

Was it?

_He’s prey, isn’t he?_

Iruka was staring directly at him. Kakashi wondered what he saw. He saw little of himself in mirrors, but the way that Iruka gazed at him, it seemed as if he saw something, something real.

They had been in Iruka’s apartment for a full week since Kakashi’s coma ended, and Iruka had not looked at him this way until now. Kakashi recalled this from romance comic books. It was an adoring look, and hopeful, exceedingly hopeful. How could Iruka feel that towards him. Did he not know the blood on Kakashi’s hands, the truth of his gruesome intrinsic monstrosity.

Iruka took the first step forward, but Kakashi registered the action for what it was, and he predicted the next move like Iruka was using taijutsu and that this was hand-to-hand combat.

It was disturbingly easy to let Iruka pull down his mask.

It was terrifyingly painless to kiss Iruka.

Their kiss was so much more graceful than Kakashi felt. While he was broken and jumbled inside, Iruka was able to be accepting after everything, and so their kiss was pure elegance.

_Iruka is not prey, Iruka is not prey, Iruka is not prey._

_Do not hurt him._

_Do not throw him to the floor and fuck him._

Iruka leaned away, beautifully blushing. His dark eyes were inviting, unbelievably inviting. 

A threat existed in Iruka’s eyes, though.

The threat to be human.

To be vulnerable.

To surrender.

_… you are not prey._

_Do not let him hurt you._


	2. Chapter 2

Iruka was as asleep as Kakashi was alert.

He didn’t rest like other shinobi did. The woods were wild, so he stayed awake. A week of house arrest could not compete with nine years outdoors; Kakashi repeated here what he had learned before. Fanatic attention must be paid to the forest when pretending to be missing nin, when being missing nin. It had been seven nights in the village: he knew the sounds of this apartment like it was a memorized jutsu. The quiet calls of insects, the distant conversations of late-night wanderers, a sudden draft fluttering tree leaves… and Iruka so very softly breathing.

Kakashi watched Iruka as he had before his mission ended.

He felt protective over the man. Of course, Kakashi would die first between the two of them. Iruka didn’t know about ROOT assassins and roaming Akatsuki shinobi. Instead the chūnin-sensei was busy raising the next generation of Konoha. He had a profound dedication to Minato and Kushina’s son although they shared no blood. Iruka always acted as if the Nine-Tailed Fox, the beast embedded inside the boy, hadn’t killed his parents. He truly seemed to love Naruto.

Iruka’s dedication to Naruto showed with stark certainty that something was wrong with him. 

Kakashi was surprised with how peaceful Iruka was when he slept. It only furthered the theory that Iruka Umino was unusual. Maybe not threatening, but still.

Could he not hear the people in the streets?

They were drunk, they were spilling secrets, they could come upstairs to kill him.

But Iruka slept through the night, like Kakashi wasn’t a mass murderer, like there weren’t threats –

Sensing an unexpected change, Kakashi turned a dual-eyed gaze out the window above Iruka’s bed. Even as it disappeared, he knew that chakra, its curling wave, its hurried signal. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed above the sheets, considering the room, listening to anything and everything, but now… with the familiar cry of chakra… 

_He’s asleep. He won’t know I’m gone._

The Body Flicker jutsu ran easy on his hands, but the world outside was colder, more lonesome. While he didn’t regret leaving Iruka’s apartment, discomfort blanketed Kakashi’s shoulders. It felt wrong to wear Iruka’s oversized pajamas on the complex’s rooftop; it felt especially unpleasant to stand barefooted by the bloody death mark of the Danzo’s failed assassin. He really needed to get rid of it. Iruka should not suffer such ugly repugnance in his existence.

Tenzo watched Kakashi’s arrival through his ANBU mask.

The shinobi carefully stood up from a crouch. He took his time inspecting Kakashi, who was doing the very same thing in return, both of them scrutinizing each other in silence. Whatever S-rank the Hokage had given Tenzo had not destroyed him, body or mind, but it had done some damage. Weariness burdened the man’s bones and made him slouch more. It wasn’t the same simulation that Tenzo and the others wore when mimicking Kakashi’s lazy look: this was actual stress and naked exhaustion. 

What Tenzo saw when looking at him, though… Kakashi could not imagine.

“It took a week?” 

His kouhai was cute, staring for a bit too long. However, his surprise soon dissolved, replaced by a readiness to reply. “Yes…” Tenzo started, then soon stopped, clearly wondering something, but long-held loyalties won over new alliances, even with someone as prominent as the new Hokage. He continued in less than second, saying that which was not meant for Kakashi’s ears. “The three other jōnin did their jobs, but the target was stronger than anticipated.” 

Sincerity deepened Tenzo’s voice, a frequently heard drop of half an octave. 

“We could have used you on our team.”

But they both knew Kakashi was housebound, like a hound-dog tied to a wood post by a house. The suggestion was understandable, but it worsened both of their moods almost immediately. 

While their time in the woods had been shared erratically and was full of slaughter… for nearly a decade they had seen each other every few days. 

This was the longest they’d been apart in five years.

Surveying the other roofs and the streets below, Kakashi asked the next most obvious question.

“Are the others still out?”

Tenzo innately understood his affection was being ignored. He shifted his body, revealing more muscle fatigue, and followed Kakashi’s two-eyed stare, leading them both to scan the village. 

“Haruko is home already. Her clan is surprised to have her back.” Then his kouhai’s voice darkened as he remarked slowly, gravely, “Her son is Naruto’s age. He thought she was dead.”

The Sharingan spun out imagery of Haruko Aburame observing her clan from a distance, her chakra deadened so their insects could not find her. She never winced, not even in the worst circumstances. Nonetheless, when Aburame family members traveled through the forest, she was inevitably at her weakest while roleplaying as Kakashi, playacting as a missing nin. Due to her unspoken reluctance to harm her kin, he had taken over for her several times. 

_So now she can meet her son, see him grow into a shinobi._

_It’s for the best. She was never a monster._

When Kakashi looked back at Tenzo, soundlessly seeking more information, the other man shook his head and said simply, “Yuuto is still in the Land of Snow.”

Visions of Yuuto wearing Kakashi’s face while healing him repeated in seemingly endless montage. Some of the incidents included Yuuto chatting away, saying imbecilic and entirely empty things, but many of them featured the medical-nin cursing loudly or under his breath. Kakashi’s optic nerve twitched, and his brain roused in reaction: a final memory of Yuuto Kuzurasa laid out flat on the forest floor, his unscarred face filling with fear, his whole frame trembling, his eyes flooding with tears. 

_Ah, why show me that._

_The time I tried to kill him._

Kakashi shook his head. The image went away. 

However, Tenzo remained… a very real man on Iruka’s roof.

“How are you, senpai?” the jōnin dared ask. Perhaps mission exhaustion made him stupid and sentimental, perhaps it was their unfamiliar absence from each other’s lives. Admittedly, Kakashi was not as brusque as he usually wanted to be with the other shinobi. This time, this night, he didn’t try to blank out his expression, his standard habit when Tenzo purposefully looked him over in pursuit of mission-interrupting anguish - physical, emotional, or chakra-related.

The crickets continued as if friendships weren’t being tested.

Kakashi glanced down at his feet, saw his scarred toes, glowered at the blood stain.

“I’m fine,” he answered shortly, but he didn’t control his voice like normal. It was a decision, an incredibly dumb one, and he instantaneously wanted to take it back, because he heard Tenzo inhale as if he’d been desperately needing breath from the bottom of both his lungs. 

_Don’t feel bad for me, kouhai._

_You know what I’ve done._

“Later,” Kakashi said, barely raising his hand in goodbye. His skin seemed to crawl with Haruko’s black spiders as displeasure crossed over his features. There was a sick thing between him and Tenzo, a sort of respect that Kakashi didn’t deserve, a kind of appreciative attention he should have shoved aside long ago. Tenzo had seen so much because of Kakashi, endured too much. Accidental deaths. Merciless fights with visiting missing nin. Harsh durations of heartless silence. He’d broken Tenzo’s bones before. He’d broken the man’s heart with cruel words.

And still, Tenzo cared.

The following Body Flicker jutsu was rushed, but he wanted to get back.

Now.

Back to Iruka.

He reappeared in the bedroom, surveying the scene straightaway.

Nothing had –

_Oh._

Sitting up in bed, with his arms wrapped around his bent knees, Iruka gazed back at Kakashi. His hair was down from its ponytail, the dark strands framing his downcast scarred face. The cotton sheets still hung over his legs; it was obvious he’d woken up and then just waited in bed. 

Iruka being awake upon his return was so unexpected that Kakashi fully froze in place.

He always stayed still in dangerous situations.

But…

But he also…

_What jutsu is this._

_Why do I feel so sick._

It felt familiar, and the Sharingan tried to help him, but Kakashi kept reliving when Minato-sensei disapproved of his childish misbehavior, and hurt sunk through him like molten metal. 

He had no defense, none at all, when Iruka looked sorrowfully at him and explained with the sort of brutality that could have ripped open a man and left him gasping, his heart in his hand:

“I’m not mad at you. I’m just disappointed.”

Then Iruka laid back down, slipping further into the sheets, and turned on his side, facing away from where Kakashi had taken up since his arrival seven days ago.

The conversation was clearly over.

Kakashi stood still.

He wondered, confusion falling over him like boiling water, why he was suddenly thinking of dying.

It in itself was not a new thing, but… he hadn’t felt this way in some time.

… and never with Iruka.

_Is this… because I disappointed him?_

He found himself on his knees, up against the side of the mattress, within inches of Iruka’s face. Certainly the other man knew he was there, but Iruka was so frightening in his strength, he didn’t open his eyes, and he didn’t move a muscle, not tensing, not pulling away from Kakashi. 

Hot relentless blood poured through Kakashi, keeping his heart pained and his brain desperate.

_… open your eyes._

_… please._

Iruka didn’t move. He was done with this, all of this. He was going to sleep.

But.

_Please look at me._

Kakashi could feel his whole body trying to understand. This wasn’t combat. It wasn’t. But.

But he felt like he was dying. He knew that feeling. It was truly grotesque in its familiarity.

Yet this was worse than.

Worse than death.

He must have made a sound, but Iruka’s eyes finally opened. They were warm, they were forgiving, and Kakashi leaned further into the bed, collapsing into it, not thinking of anything. He accidentally moved even closer to Iruka, but that suited the painful lovely man just fine, because Iruka brought his hand from under the sheets and stroked Kakashi’s scarred cheek. 

It occurred to Kakashi, stunningly, that he was almost about to break into tears.

Iruka was nowhere near tears, even though he did look sincerely concerned for Kakashi.

Then Iruka’s hand swept back, and he started running his fingers through Kakashi’s hair, something that made Kakashi feel strange and small, precious and spoiled, not monstrous, not murderous, not forsaken, and he ducked his head down, trying so very despairingly not to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly enjoyed writing this chapter! <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, too.
> 
> ___

His skin showed his history.

As Kakashi soaked in the hot water, he looked down at his body. His legs were bare, stretched out before him. They were perhaps the palest part of him. Sometimes, before, he had stood in the sunlight, alone in the woods, shirtless, practicing taijutsu. Often, he rested in trees facing upwards to the skies and drew down his mask, pondering the cool or heat, the wind or the rain. But he rarely let his legs see the sun – only the swiftest moments in streams if a rough jutsu hit him wrong, or if blood, his or theirs, drenched through his costume, making cloth stick to skin. 

His showers in his father’s house were always quick.

They were without luxury.

It made little sense to him to do otherwise. Yet, just a few minutes ago, Iruka had informed Kakashi, as if it was the most ordinary thing, “I drew you a bath. Go soak in the water.”

He had stood silently, mulling over Iruka’s motivations.

Kakashi was unprepared for Iruka to push him with both hands towards the bathroom; he had to detangle the pathways in his brain that demanded he hold his ground and not be moved. 

And it was true: Iruka had readied a bath for him. The water was high on the bathtub. It was pleasantly hot, pinkening his paper-white skin. Initial unease fell away as his body relaxed. Although there seemed to be no reason for the bath, it was… ah, it was nice. He flexed his toes, separating them one by one, pinpointing the little scars, and remembering when he got them. 

Reflecting in the humid heat, Kakashi touched the infinitely small scar on his thigh, the one that looked a sewing needle punctured his skin. He knew this one well. It was recent. It had nearly killed him. And its cause had been wrenched out by Iruka Umino in this very bathroom.

The Land of Iron had their own missing nin, but they were samurai, not shinobi – Kakashi had always known that to be true. Nevertheless, he’d never expected to meet one, let alone fight one to the death. Yet it had turned out to be yet another scene in his tumultuous existence. She had been gifted, she had used a wealth of techniques, she was a thief like him, she stole what she liked, and so she butchered him with sword, kunai, poison, words. Her final act was death-drunk laughter in his clone’s face, saying he was fun, he was such good fun, thanks for the fun.

Kakashi glanced down to the bathroom floor. He knew this space, he remembered it. Even so, it hadn’t been the only safe space in Konoha. After the samurai’s death, Yuuto’s chakra called to him… they haunted him still. The medical-nin had correctly assessed his state: Kakashi was dying, he had battled and he had won, but he was dying. 

_He’s never said my name._

_If only he…_

And so, out of his mind, or rather, maybe in his right mind, Kakashi went into Konoha to Iruka, expecting to die beside him.

The Sharingan buzzed with pleasure at that memory, replaying how Iruka had finally said his name for the first time. It was full of fear and shock, and red blood splatter was almost all Kakashi could see, but he liked it, he liked how Iruka said his name, like it was a real name and he was a real person. 

Laying on the floor, he had thought it would be a decent time to die.

With someone saying your name like that… 

Overwhelmed suddenly by a strange warmth, Kakashi settled deeper into the bathtub. His face felt a little odd… likely due to the water’s high temperature. He kept thinking about Iruka, skipping over his attempt to push the man away with cruel words, and rediscovering their time together at the Academy before he went out to the Land of Waves. Oh, Iruka had looked so happy to see him, the man’s hands were so strong pulling Kakashi down into their kiss, their bodies had met so perfectly in the middle of the classroom, they so fiercely intertwined together. 

Ah, that was… that was…

Kakashi realized abruptly why his face felt different.

He was so surprised, he opened the Sharingan as if experiencing an ambush.

_Oh, I’m smiling._

The resulting blush from his realization rose right to his eartips. There was no denying that’s what was happening – he was so distracted, warmly thinking about Iruka – that he was smiling!

Because Kakashi was an unlucky wretch, Iruka appeared just then in the doorway. He was taking off his hitai-ate, putting the headband by the sink, and tugging out his hair from its tie. Before Iruka could look over at him, Kakashi violently controlled his blush, commanding the blood to disperse, and he worked his mouth back to indifferent neutrality. It was insanely hard to do, perhaps one of the most difficult things this year, but he could not endure Iruka catching him smiling and blushing like a little civilian kid.

Yet his ordeal was not over, because then Iruka was unexpectedly taking off his shirt. The chūnin might not be the most muscular creature, but his dark brown body was beyond Kakashi’s vast imagination. They had not seen each other nude except for fleeting seconds these past eight days since Kakashi arrived in the apartment. Neither of them ever stared… 

Kakashi had wondered if he should, if that might start something. 

But, here and now, Iruka was appalling in his self-confidence. He put the shirt aside and then slipped down his pants, taking his boxer-briefs in the same smooth motion. 

It was literally impossible not to stare.

And the Sharingan, of course, was alert and interested. 

Kakashi could not fathom what was happening. He had no predictive capability here. 

He just stayed still and stared.

But.

Ah, wait.

_… he’s blushing._

Instincts made Kakashi sit up a bit, observing Iruka like - _he’s prey, he’s prey._ The other man was more tentative than was first noticed; his gaze was averted, he was not looking up. It was instantly appealing, leading every bad desire to rise to the surface. Iruka’s body language was such a captivating mixture of composure and deference that Kakashi nearly stood out of the bath… but he held himself back because… Iruka walked up to the bathtub and stopped.

As the majestic shinobi met both of Kakashi’s eyes, Iruka murmured, “Can I get in with you?”

Such irrational courage.

His mind cleared like a cloudless sky.

Kakashi could only nod.

The next few seconds were unbelievably confusing: Iruka stepped into the bathtub, his bare feet between Kakashi’s knees, and then he lowered himself down, using obvious care, so he could sit down between Kakashi’s legs, leaving his back fully unprotected and open to view…

Iruka’s scar was beautiful.

It absorbed all of Kakashi’s attention. Dedication flourished like wildflowers within the damaged tissue. The blood was long gone, but he could remember it without trying, how the wound had looked when freshly created. Flak jacket sliced apart, shinobi blue shirt cut open, brown skin splayed, wet red gushing out. So many other injuries from the skirmish, a dozen kunai stuck in muscle all over, but only the enormous shuriken nearly separated Iruka’s spine. 

Kakashi’s healing jutsu had been habitual, but having a man in his arms… 

And here it was again – the scar slightly healed by Kakashi.

He glanced around Iruka’s back, curious if he could find any of the kunai scars from the incident.

Thrillingly, he could see a few.

This time he could actually -

Reaching his arm around Iruka’s side, under the man’s arm, he pressed two fingers down into the dip of Iruka’s scar, the one above his right knee. The pitiful shinobi who had provoked Naruto in the forest might have had deadly aim, but Iruka was swift in his despair. It had been such a sight to see their fight tear through the woods, if only because a bleeding brokenhearted Iruka had been the least of Kakashi’s interests after meeting him even once. 

If Iruka had not moved aside, away from Mizuki, the attack would have been debilitating.

Kakashi drew his fingers further up Iruka’s brown skin, delighting in the larger scar he found. This was an older injury – something received when the chūnin was still developing physically. The weaker tissue had stretched out and produced an impressive span of paler skin. It ran in parallel with Iruka’s thigh, a long lethal-looking slash, and might have been from a mission rather than training considering its severity. The look of this scar was similar to ones Kakashi had all across his body: the wound had been intentional, the result of someone wanting to kill. 

He put his whole hand over the scar, wondering if he could wish it away.

“… Kakashi.”

He was so enthralled with Iruka’s body that he tensed, not having expected anything to be said.

But now that Kakashi was studying Iruka’s reaction, he could see there had been a change.

_He’s blushing. He’s breathing heavier._

His fingers seemed to understand better than he did. They spread out across Iruka’s thigh as far as they could, before lifting off the lovely landscape and reaching over a few inches to find…

Iruka’s head bowed down, his shoulders rose up, and his hand tightened on the rim of the bathtub, all because…

_Mmm. Much better than scars._

Kakashi became engrossed with his new task: memorizing the soft skin and hard length of Iruka’s arousal. He had been too distracted their first time together, became more interested in Iruka’s rapt expression and his dangerously unrestrained breathing. Yet now, now Kakashi could enjoy himself and properly trace along Iruka’s cock. His scarred fingers had a little less sensation than he would have wanted, so he used more of his palm, encircling Iruka fully, slowly running his hand up and down. Instinctively, he brought his other arm around Iruka’s waist, shifted the man’s thigh to open his legs more, and then touched him with those fingers as well. 

The Sharingan was aching because he was pushing it so hard, but…

_Look at that blush._

Kakashi didn’t watch his hands learning Iruka; he stared down at the reddened skin of Iruka’s scarred cheek, slightly curved for him to see. The man’s pretty mouth was parted, only letting out soundless breaths, but, captivatingly, whenever Kakashi rolled his fingertips back towards the base, Iruka bit his bottom lip hard, seemingly trying to keep quiet.

It was such a bewilderingly frustrating thing.

Kakashi wanted sound.

He wanted Iruka to gasp.

Moan.

Beg.

He looked down where he’d bitten Iruka that one time, the day before the exams when he couldn’t restrain himself, because he thought he might die, die alone away from Iruka, and it was just like that again, because Kakashi leaned forward, his battle-marred chest touching the man’s deep dignified scar, and he spoke, starving, ravenous, wanting more, so much more.

“Let me hear your voice.”

Iruka stopped breathing.

Kakashi went still.

He immediately understood:

_I did something wrong._

But surprise cracked that thought right out the way, because Iruka was suddenly fumbling in the bathtub, he was suddenly facing Kakashi, he was suddenly straddling Kakashi so forcefully it closed Kakashi’s legs, he was suddenly pressing their arousals together with his unreasonably good grip, he was suddenly yanking Kakashi forward by the back of his neck, he was suddenly kissing Kakashi with the sort of brutal force that echoed finishing blows in advanced taijutsu.

It was sheer fucking agony to have Iruka straddling him, riding his hips, kissing him so desperately, and Kakashi lost himself in it, thinking only of Iruka, grabbing him by the ass, making the movements more forceful and more serious and more like fucking, all while Iruka braved on drawing them to new heights together, it was sheer fucking agony, it was so so ruthlessly good, Iruka’s tongue was so deeply inside his mouth, but he wanted to hear Iruka come.

He moved his head back, hitting the wall, and Iruka watched him only an inch away, back to breathing like he always should, desperate and ardent and wild, and the Sharingan recalled this look as Iruka neared unabashed ecstasy, and this time Kakashi kissed him through it, wanting to memorize and learn and steal and treasure the man’s blush, his scars, his sounds, his voice.

He was so mesmerized by Iruka that Kakashi didn’t even realize he was close. 

When Iruka would not let him go, kissing him through his pleasure, Kakashi heard himself breathing hard, trying to catch his runaway breath, and Iruka released him for a second, his dark devoted eyes the most dangerous thing that Kakashi had ever seen in his entire life, and then they resumed kissing, as if it was all so natural and normal and to be expected. 

As the minutes passed, the water cooled.

Their kisses continued.


	4. Chapter 4

Iruka was prey, and he was delicious.

It was easy to trail him through the apartment, to pin him against walls. Kakashi enjoyed finding Iruka’s sensitive spots; he was darkly pleased eliciting sounds from Iruka. He could tell he was being cruel, but ah, it was just too easy, and so rewarding, too. Furthermore, Iruka didn’t seem to mind being devoured. The chūnin always came before Kakashi. He always looked satisfied.

Last night in the bathtub had been followed another round on the bed, and then there was this morning when Iruka had valiantly tried to make them breakfast. He was no match for Kakashi. 

Each time, Iruka sweetly surrendered, his dark eyes dreamy.

He never resisted.

Ever.

Kakashi increasingly coveted Iruka’s tears. Wouldn’t it be so nice to see him cry? Sinister delight filled him every time he saw Iruka’s scarred expression swim with want, with pleasure. He’d barely slept last night due to the Sharingan’s recollection of rising red blush on brown cheeks. 

He understood etiquette well enough: he did not wake Iruka. He knew that, even while being on leave from work, Iruka would not want to be shaken awake. Nevertheless, Kakashi also believed there was nothing improper about more kissing during lunch. So, when Iruka looked up at him with surprise, and his eyes half-lidded, and his arms slid over Kakashi’s shoulders, they rapidly fell against the kitchen wall by the fridge, Kakashi pressing full-body into Iruka, hoisting up one of Iruka’s legs, uniting them once again, savoring the man’s astounding arousal against his own. 

This time, unlike the bathtub, and the bed, and at breakfast, Kakashi acted upon truly vicious impulse. His kisses dropped down to Iruka’s neck, where he so soon nipped, secretly feeling quite superior seeing the resulting red mark on Iruka’s skin. As if encouraging his bad behavior, the delicious chūnin returned to breathing, unsteady and unrestrained, next to Kakashi’s ear. 

The Sharingan ignored Kakashi’s oversensitive shakiness and instead memorized Iruka’s startled inhale when Kakashi bit him harder on the throat. 

He lovingly licked at the new mark.

Shuddering against him, Iruka’s fingers dug hard and deep into Kakashi’s shoulders.

It was nearly enough to make him crash over the edge.

Losing control of his breath, Kakashi weakly lifted up to kiss Iruka –

\- then he reached behind him and grabbed the fish carving knife off the kitchen counter while forcing up his mask over his face with his other hand, then he spun around and lunged forward, meeting the ANBU’s anticipated initial alarmed block of his attack, then he caught the shinobi by the left shoulder, smashing his knee straight up into the ANBU’s groin, and then he tossed the foolhardy jōnin to the wood floor and chopped down through the ANBU’s armguard with a single solid downward motion of the knife, partially embedding the blade in the shinobi’s skin above the arteries in his wrist, aligning it in such a way that he could take off the ANBU’s hand if needed, removing any chance for adversarial jutsu, preventing any possible violence against Iruka.

Kakashi glanced at the blood leaking out of the jōnin’s wrist wound.

It was getting on Iruka’s floor.

Behind his mask, he frowned, detesting the idea of yet another damn stain.

Abruptly, Iruka was standing beside them. His voice reverberated in the small kitchen as he commanded, “Kakashi, let him go.” Swiftly feeling like he’d made a mistake, Kakashi stole a glimpse over at Iruka and found the man staring intently at him, his hands gripped at his sides.

**“Now.”**

The word rolled like thunder.

Kakashi stepped off the ANBU, taking the knife with him. 

He kept it ready, though. Just in case.

For a second, he worried Iruka would scold him, repeating their tiff before the chūnin exams. He steeled his heart and prepared his brain to be more humble than last time. He must endure.

But. 

But instead.

Iruka glowered down at the ANBU like he’d been caught pulling pigtails on the playground.

“You,” he ground out. “You need to apologize right now.”

When the jōnin only stared up, flabbergasted, his wide hazel eyes stuck on Iruka, Kakashi briefly considered killing the other man for being a disrespectful fuck. He knew how to burn bodies.

Impressively, Iruka did not need his help feeding corpses to flames.

Instead, the glorious beast that was Iruka Umino burned with Maito Gai fire and proclaimed so heatedly he might have charred the ANBU’s porcelain façade, “If you do not apologize right this instant, the Hokage will be notified of your failure. I will personally oversee your punishment.”

The legal talk was different from Kakashi’s approach, but, curiously, the ANBU responded to it.

Indeed, he shot to his feet and bowed. 

“I apologize, Iruka-sensei.”

The jōnin put pressure on his fresh wound as he gazed back up towards Iruka. Seemingly unable to stop himself, the shinobi snuck a look at Kakashi still standing in front of him. In what was an odd moment, Kakashi realized he wanted to frown at the ANBU, but he restrained himself just in time.

_… so they know both of us now._

_Ah, well, they’ve always known me, the missing nin, but…_

He studied Iruka’s response, observing how the chūnin crossed his arms over his chest.

_Now they know him, too. My… handler. Chosen by the Hokage herself._

“Tell us what’s so important and then get out,” Iruka said, visibly irritated. It was a strange look on the man. Kakashi denied the new desire to shove the ANBU out the front door to assuage Iruka.

Keeping it from the chūnin-sensei, Kakashi let out a bit of his homicidal intent. The ANBU hastily looked away from Iruka to him upon perceiving the murderous thoughts in the air. With half his expression hidden by his mask, Kakashi deliberately rose both silver eyebrows at the other shinobi. 

_Hurry up,_ he indicated silently.

“The Hokage is announcing Hatake’s return in three days. She says you’re to stay inside until then.”

As Kakashi idly threw a look towards Iruka, he witnessed Iruka nod, first in confirmation of the information and then dismissively towards the ANBU. The wounded jōnin needed no further encouragement to depart: he disappeared from the apartment in a muted grey blur. Red drops of the ANBU’s blood stayed behind on the floor. Kakashi glared at them, promptly thinking of cleaning.

He hid his surprise when Iruka asked him, a tired thread through his tone, “Can you create a ward?”

Order heard and order obeyed.

His hands enjoyed activating the jutsu. Except for the Body Flicker to see Tenzo, Kakashi hadn’t done anything since his fight with Itachi. Understandable relief rushed through his body. It was as if his pathways had fretted that they would never light up again. A childish giddiness almost overtook him, but he caught himself, if only because Iruka suddenly appeared exhausted beyond belief.

The ward settled neatly around the apartment.

It would be impenetrable… except for maybe the sannin… and some of the Akatsuki.

But… they wouldn’t be around, not now, not for a while.

Evidently swamped with fatigue, Iruka wiped at his face and shook his head. “I can’t believe that,” he muttered, sounding as if he’d spent too many long days teaching pre-genin. “Did he think you were attacking me? Why wouldn’t he knock?” His hand drifted down to the bite Kakashi had just given him. Fascinatingly, Kakashi watched as Iruka stroked the new bruise without thinking about it.

While it didn’t seem like he was upset with Kakashi’s behavior, Iruka did seem distressed.

His favorite characters in his books often apologized to their lover – even when they hadn’t done anything wrong – so, staying where he stood, Kakashi said very carefully, quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Iruka looked up at him in surprise. His hand stilled on the slope of his neck. 

“No,” Iruka corrected slowly. “You only did what you’re trained to do. He made the mistake.”

It was obvious the chūnin was thinking to himself - ‘it’s just good you didn’t kill him.’

He found he quite liked the feel of his ward jutsu around Iruka’s apartment. Trying not to disturb Iruka any further, Kakashi played at the edges of the barrier, testing it out, making sure it was strong. He funneled more chakra towards it, confirming its steadiness. No other ANBU would bother Iruka today. There was a distinctive pride blooming within Kakashi. He’d kept Iruka from harm, and he could and would do it again, and his ward could even delay the new Hokage. He felt a gratified smile trying to fight its way to his lips; he had to use real restraint to keep it off his half-masked face.

Disrupting Kakashi’s war with his own self-esteem, Iruka looked right at him, braving both his eyes.

“You have a lot of pent-up energy,” he declared without accusation. 

The statement nearly made Kakashi blush. It sounded like he was a boy being too rowdy in class. 

Before Kakashi could properly identify the right way to respond, Iruka announced, his whole demeanor becoming rebellious, his scarred expression breaking into a truly brilliant smile:

“We’re breaking out of here. You need to run laps and see some sunshine.”


	5. Chapter 5

_Ahh, the sun, it feels so…_

But perhaps it wasn’t the sun at all. 

Kakashi was having a very difficult time not smiling at Iruka. Like, an impossible time. He had a better chance of becoming Hokage than stopping himself from smiling at Iruka. The man was ferocious glory as they made their way in the woods, not looking back at Konoha. It wasn’t a treasonous retreat from their home village, but there was a gleeful quality to their run that made it feel like they were leaving behind an entangled horror story and rushing off into the sunset together.

His heart became a Chidori in his chest as he looked over at Iruka.

Seeing the glance, the other shinobi shot him such a sincere grin that - _ah, don’t do that._

They stopped in the clustered dark forest, and Iruka immediately went after him, his eyes alive. His scarred expression should have been shrouded with trauma. It should still have been gushing blood with all the obligations and responsibilities demanded of him since he was orphaned, since he made chūnin, since he became sensei. It should have sunk down into the pure white of his skull, crushed it through, shattered it to pieces. 

But Iruka was kissing him high in a tree, he was pressing Kakashi against the bark.

The other man was breathless.

Being a chūnin, the run was hard, it was too much, but Iruka had done it without complaint. His labored breathing was a testament to his hardship, as was the sweat on his skin, seeming like morning dew shining on the fields. His rebellion was complete: he’d smuggled them out of the village, and now he was jubilant in his triumph, kissing Kakashi without stopping to catch his breath.

Kakashi was breathless for a different reason.

He could not stop smiling. It was insane, it ignited anxiety. Instinct screamed at him to restrain it, hold the line, wipe the slate clean, eliminate the smile, they can read you, they can’t know you –

But.

But Iruka.

He couldn’t tell what had triggered Iruka, but he was relishing it as if first seeing the sunrise. They resumed where they had been before the irritating gnat of an ANBU interrupted them, except now.

Except now Iruka was leading. He was in charge. He was rough with Kakashi, his hands clenching down on Kakashi’s cloth-clad shoulders, his mouth hotly pursuing Kakashi’s shameful smile. The bark behind him felt good, very good, like stability made into reality. It was a solid space he knew from his years of being missing nin when standing against trees. He was sorely relieved to have something at his back that wouldn’t and couldn’t bleed, break, cry out in suffering, scratch open his heart, make him more a monster.

Iruka stepped away, his beautiful brown face scarred, flushed, focused only on Kakashi.

“Go,” the man told him, “Run.”

_Ah, yes. Whatever you say._

Relief and joy wove together as he made the hand signs for clones. The two of them appeared behind Iruka; they were more brazen, both smiling at Kakashi, before they leapt away into the woods. It was a chance to spar, of course, but he also wanted to triple the exhaustion of the chase, the thrill of seeking out something smart and deadly in the forest, the success of finding and fighting them. 

Leaving behind Iruka made him feel odd, like he was leaving behind -

_No, he’s not Rin._

Never minding the obvious, Kakashi threw a look back over his shoulder, confirming Iruka wasn’t trapped, that he could get away, that he could go back to the village if he needed.

He nearly tripped out of the tree.

Because Iruka was waving goodbye to him, like this was the start of a war and he was a civilian wife.

His Chidori-heart slammed up into Kakashi’s throat, burning away tissue, destroying his voice.

The next hour was a haze of violence; he wouldn’t have had it any other way. His clones were vicious. Sometimes, they worked together, the two of them, tracking Kakashi and tricking him. But other times, as had happened before, the shadow clones turned against each other, and Kakashi found them engaged in a truthfully terrifying brawl, boxing one another with advanced taijutsu. 

He killed the first one with a hastily created trap and kunai thrown between raised silver eyebrows.

The second one was malicious, something that occasionally occurred with his shadow clones. 

It had Kakashi down on the ground. It was grinning madly behind its mask. 

Mad insane, mad furious.

It seethed, clever and cold, an inch from its creator’s face: “You’ll destroy him. He won’t survive you.”

Kakashi’s killer instinct rose to the surface. He didn’t need shuriken, sword, or jutsu to deal with someone, something, anything terrorizing him with the unwelcome truth of things. He only needed –

The shadow clone blinked both eyes, its false Sharingan flashing away for a second. 

It looked down at its chest.

Kakashi pushed Iruka’s fish carving knife deeper into the clone’s abdomen. As he did so, he scraped the blade up against its briefly-real sternum, the sound slight and sharp, stirring both of their senses.

The shadow clone glowered down at him. For a very short second, it considered its maker, and Kakashi tried to feel nothing, but his own pale scarred face above him swept into sorrow, and –

“Good luck,” it said to him.

The dispersal after the jutsu’s death was a rush of memories and wrong feelings, and so Kakashi laid alone in the woods, trying to think and not think at the same time. 

He needed to visit…

No. First. He wondered where Iruka was.

Kakashi walked the woods, empty and full inside. His thoughts were of everything, nothing. This was his place, where he had resided for so long, that which he was forced to abandon just like the village.

Now, he was in a liminal space, somewhere within Konoha, somewhere beyond Konoha. 

The Lady Hokage would soon invite him back in, her public announcement incontestable, but _will they accept me? do I even deserve…?_

Iruka was where Kakashi had left him. He was gazing up into the blue skies, examining white clouds. What floated through his mind, danced through his mind, dragged torturously through his mind… 

It was looking into the unknown when looking at Iruka Umino.

How he could exist. How could he be. 

What would Iruka look like, if this had been done to him?

Would he be dead like the others, the three ANBU who didn’t survive the mission? 

As Kakashi peered upwards, even as the Sharingan slept, he could see their faces – the faces of his dead teammates. 

Dark brown skin under ANBU jacket splayed open and bloody, the whites of her eyes so unearthly colorless, her fingers still clutching at the wicked sword stuck through her stomach. Peach skin splattered with a wild spread of red, his face stricken, his body collapsing down to the forest floor. White skin matching Kakashi’s skin, morphing to sickly grey flesh, the transformation ending in the throes of death, mortality eating up the medical-nin, the man unable to ward it off any longer.

But. 

But there was also Iruka.

His was a beautiful face, brown, scarred, darkened with a blush.

He would never have to see Iruka die because Kakashi would die first. His loyalty was to the village, but Iruka was the first thing he would protect. He wasn’t missing nin – he was missing nin – but.

But if it came down to Konoha or Iruka.

Suddenly, Iruka noticed Kakashi and smiled down at him from the tree, so very fittingly from above. 

The chūnin waved, easy, inexplicably in love.

… he would destroy himself before he destroyed Iruka.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I hope this makes up for it. Please enjoy!
> 
> ___

Fiery hellscape surrounded him; the wood cross straightened his spine. His body wouldn’t move. His thoughts raced through space and time. Konoha engulfed in flames. Naruto draped limply over Kisame’s arm. Gai defending his genin against a Tailed Beast. Hiruzen caught unaware, pale and dead. Orochimaru courting death. Obito wide-eyed shocked at his rescue. Rin coughing blood.

Iruka worrying about him. In the woods with take-out ramen. In the bathroom, in the mirror. In the training grounds. In the village streets. In the Academy. In his sleep, in his bed. 

In the Hatake homestead, scratching Kakashi’s skin open, seeking the Sharingan.

Itachi betrayed himself by the slightest lift of his chin.

_No. No, don’t be interested in him._

Kakashi’s eyes snapped open: the Sharingan met cloth, but his inheritance from his father saw moonlight. He assessed his setting in an instant – this was not the forest, this was not his family’s house, this was not ANBU headquarters, this was not Gai’s apartment, this was –

He turned his single-eyed gaze down to check on Iruka.

_Still sleeping._

His senses were still working, evaluating the world around them. The ward jutsu was still intact. He could hear beyond it, the voices of drunken civilians stumbling home. The window above the bed was innocent to the barrier containing the space and allowed in streams of shiny white moonlight. 

Chakra exhaustion tickled him, made him heavy and less coherent. He contemplated falling back asleep, trying to ease himself back down into dreamland. Yet sharp needles of anxiety pierced him. Certainly something was amiss, something he should be preparing for, something he should be…

His clone’s memory from earlier in the day re-emerged.

The one where the clone found a lone ANBU watching over Kakashi and Iruka in the woods, how it had found her and fought her. The one where the clone pinned the frantic squirming ANBU to a tree. The one where the clone warned the ANBU, unhurried, relaxed, blank, “You can keep a secret, can’t you?” while its crisp Chidori burned away the bark beside her masked face.

No one came for them. No reprimand. No report back to the Hokage.

Iruka didn’t know about the horrors inside or outside the village. He shouldn’t. He should be kept protected, now, at all times. He should never, ever suffer. He shouldn’t see Konoha in flames. He should not worry. He would not have to worry. No, never. Not with Kakashi here defending him.

Kakashi glanced towards the window. Something was outside the ward. Not an ANBU, but –

He wouldn’t leave Iruka. He couldn’t. Not after last time. 

_Iruka’s look of disappointment…_

It still stung days later.

Like the old ghostly feeling of the knife slicing down his face.

Irritation surged through him. He shouldn’t have overdone it in the forest. Now they were both vulnerable. He didn’t have the team with him to cover his down time. Could he contact Tenzo? If his kouhai heard his call, he would come running, but should he? Shouldn’t he finally liberate the man? 

But could he do this alone? He… had done it alone, mostly, but there were times, just like this one, where he needed help, and Kakashi felt his muscles collectively seizing, all of them angry with him for their overexertion and hearing his new demand they ready for battle with the unknown. 

Itachi in his Akatsuki robe. His Mangekyō Sharingan eyes. His aloof expression becoming interested.

_Shit._

Panic was eating at Kakashi. It was digesting him. Dissolving him into nothing.

He was halfway through a Body Flicker jutsu when Iruka sleepily stretched across the bed, reaching for him, to the space where he had been laying minutes ago. 

Kakashi tried not to wonder where the fuck he had just been going – he knew it wasn’t to stay here - and that would have turned everything upside down – was he going to go find Itachi? to kill him? for noticing Kakashi’s crush on Iruka? - of course Itachi could kill Iruka, anyone could kill Iruka, everyone was a threat to Iruka, Iruka needed Kakashi - no, Kakashi needed Iruka, this was – this wasn’t - ah, they shouldn’t have – they really shouldn’t have – this was going to get them both killed – get the whole village burned down to ash – destroy the entire shinobi world, end all of humanity - 

Dark eyes carefully watching him, full of fondness.

Then Iruka was leaning up towards him and kissing him, slow and loving.

He tilted his head more. Their kiss deepened naturally.

Iruka’s hand dropped to Kakashi’s thigh, then drifted over, touching him intimately.

The panic of a moment ago evaporated. He was staring at Iruka. Curiosity completely killed his anxiety.

“I want to do something for you,” the insufferably bold man told him.

This was known choreography: Kakashi recognized the motions. His muscles froze, encased in icy danger. 

There was Iruka Umino, confusing chūnin-sensei, anomaly among men, gently pulling down Kakashi’s loose clothing, stroking him, and he was leaning down, he was parting his lips, and he –

They had not done this, not the two of them, not together.

But Kakashi had before.

Based on his skill, Iruka had too.

Yet Iruka’s attention to Kakashi’s cock… ah, it was so unlike the clinical work of an ANBU. There was none of the murderous glares and scowls, the hierarchical show of dominance and submission. 

His hands were warm, not freezing cold, and his mouth was soft and wet, not firm and furious. It was painful, how much Iruka cared, how much he showed his love doing this, taking in Kakashi more and more as his body relaxed. He avoided scratching his teeth against Kakashi’s sensitive skin – not because he was afraid of admonishment, but because he didn’t want to hurt him. His tongue was languid but devoted, tasting Kakashi from base to tip and treasuring it, truly treasuring it.

The moonlight cost Kakashi his sanity.

It revealed too much.

Iruka’s shadowed-honeyed eyes pursued Kakashi’s.

_… I’m prey. I’m his prey._

He flushed full red. His hand involuntarily went to Iruka’s shoulder, then up to his hair, which he grabbed a fist-full of. With the feeling of Iruka’s rosemary-sage-smelling dark hair silky and free in his fingers, Kakashi’s mind zeroed out into emptiness. He wasn’t thinking anymore. He saw a fight.

Tears in Iruka’s eyes. 

He finally got them.

Iruka underneath him, half-nude, the black of his eyes dilated and blown. So many scars, so few scars. All that skin, brown, dark, beautiful, all available, all waiting to be conquered. Thick enough muscles, strong enough bones, blazing bright spirit. All Kakashi’s, all his, only his, for now forever. 

His right hand was keeping Iruka down on the mattress.

His left had forced up Iruka’s leg, revealing what he wanted.

His tongue went there: he had his first taste of the other man. Nothing like he imagined. Better. Because Kakashi was broken, and he was a monster, while Iruka Umino was pure sweet excellence. 

He had no talent in this. He had never done this. But he had been vulgar for weeks, wanting this. 

Profane and grotesque, wanting to destroy Iruka, dirty him, make him utterly filthy.

His right hand released Iruka’s abdomen, went to the man’s arousal, took him dry, brought him to the edge, working all his sensitivities.

Damn this moonlight. He couldn’t look up, he didn’t dare look up. His headband saved him, shielded the Sharingan, stopped the memorization of Iruka being so badly befouled by him.

Kakashi was delirious. He knew what Iruka had just done to him. He didn’t need the bleeding, crushed mess of his friend to save that sensation; he needed no legendary dōjutsu to repeat it.

He switched hands. His fingers went inside Iruka. His mouth took in Iruka, all of him.

He loved on the man. He didn’t look up at him in fury. He wasn’t being forced to do this. 

No, no, this –

This was so wrong because it was just so damn right.

Kakashi was weak. He was vulnerable and weak. He was plagued by chakra exhaustion. He –

He looked up at Iruka, desperately wanting to see what the man looked like.

_Oh._

They met eyes, just as they had so many times before.

But Kakashi realized he must be outrageously lewd-looking, his mouth still occupied with Iruka’s cock, his fingers still moving in and out of the other man, his half-scarred cheeks full and blushing, his half-clothed body in a crouch on the bed with his own arousal wet and pervertedly visible.

Iruka’s eyes – which were already wide – somehow opened even more.

 _Oh... fuck._

He knew this sensation: Iruka was coming in his mouth. The pulsing of the man’s cock - _ah, ah, yes, please, **please**_ \- and the taste of him… Kakashi uncontrollably full-body winced. He nearly hurt himself trying to contain the wild visceral pleasure flying through him in response to Iruka’s orgasm. His heart gave a sudden pang in his chest, ringing like a metallic gong struck too hard. He had to adjust quickly on the fly, but he was a master of improvisation, and he did it, just so –

Just so he could touch himself.

_Fuck, **too good.**_

He backed away from Iruka’s cock, unable to breathe. He swallowed down Iruka’s cum, then he was panting above the man while tightly shutting his eye, the pleasure of everything becoming too much. 

His climax could have killed him it was so crazily exhaustive.

His defenses were so abominably low that he didn’t sense Iruka’s sudden approach. Abruptly he felt the man’s hands on his face. He looked up in sex-dulled alarm, right as –

Iruka kissed him as if it was only the two of them in the whole wide world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dearly wanted to return into this one. I'm relieved to write it again.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> ___

He knew he had to control himself.

But sex with Iruka made Kakashi uneven, his vision madly tilted. Although he literally followed the chūnin wherever he went - it didn’t seem enough anymore. The Sharingan was seemingly pleased to be used again, but then he was pushing it, and the dōjutsu ached like a dull wound. Chakra exhaustion hung on him like a ragged cloak. Still, he exploited Obito’s eye, checking Iruka for stains, seeking signs of any transferred monstrosity. The man looked like he always did, but Kakashi knew to search the underneath of the underneath. Certainly something must have changed after Iruka tasted him… after he tasted Iruka… after he put fingers inside Iruka… such a stupid, wicked thing. 

The man must have been befouled in some way.

Yet, eerily, the shinobi seemed just the same. 

Was it a testament to his strength? That creepy, unsettling strength unique to Iruka Umino?

Kakashi kept quiet about it, not wanting to disturb the other man. Inevitably, though, Iruka noticed. After all, Kakashi was particularly persistent in his tracking and too distracted to hide his pursuit. Nevertheless, the chūnin only observed him and his intense dissimilar dual-eyed stare… and then went about his life, preparing for the next morning, when he would return to work at the Academy.

The right words didn’t exist. The few Kakashi could think up died in his mouth. They dissolved on his tongue, churning into muck, clogging his throat with muddy debris. His genius seemed broken by the experience of Iruka on him last night… him inside Iruka, if only slightly… had he used force? no… right? He couldn’t fully remember it, chakra exhaustion and satisfaction blurring things together, the midnight mood messing with his mind.

Suddenly putting down his tea, Iruka finally said, “You’ve been staring all day.” His scar and his expression - both of them were sorrowed, worried, wary. Iruka’s subsequent words echoed the same sentiment written in shadows on his face. He asked, not trying to control his tone, “Are you okay?”

How to ask –

Do you feel different?

You, who put yourself in such a vulnerable position… for me, of all the dumb beasts in existence. 

Why would you let me - ?

Impossible. This was a dream, a delusion, a genjutsu. It had to be. This was a dying gasp on the battlefield as blood and fire rained down on the rubble of Konoha. It was hope, pained and weak.

Iruka’s eyebrows narrowed, and his mouth collapsed into a frown. “Why did you just try to break a genjutsu?” he demanded, his voice harder now. Disapproval and confusion whipped together within the chūnin, cornering Kakashi, striking discomfort through his physical being and places so much deeper. 

“You’re not in a genjutsu, Kakashi,” Iruka stated firmly, standing up from the table, trying to reach him in swift order. “This is real – you’re here, with me, in Konoha. I promise you: This is reality.”

But this felt alien. He couldn’t be indoors – he lived in the woods. Yet Tenzo, Yuuto, and Haruko – they weren’t around, they weren’t waiting in the wings to slip on his guise. The air didn’t smell like coppery blood; his father-inherited silver hair had been combed this morning with a pretty blue hairbrush. His skin was foreign suddenly - no new wounds, no fresh scars. His clothing was recently bought, the latest shinobi trend, they fit him perfectly, there was no porcelain or armor. 

He stared straight down at his hands, discovering them ungloved and bare and resting palm-up in his lap. His callouses had faded a bit, unused from harsh weaponry, abandoned from rough combat, softened from lotion and long baths and lingering on the homefront.

Something touched his shoulder.

He crushed it into the ground as the Sharingan saw far beyond the apartment.

No Akatsuki, no enemy nin, no missing nin. An ANBU unit across the way. One perking up, then the second, the third signaling to the others, sharp like a poisoned needle, the curt motion cutting.

They cracked his barrier ward over the building. 

Kakashi’s grip on the thing below him tightened, making it twitch. He shouldn’t - he shouldn’t be here. In Konoha. In this apartment. In this place. He stepped up and away, ignoring how his body wouldn’t stop shaking, and he wrangled his wild thoughts into a mission plan, working out how to contact the other members of his team. They’d need to go to the Land of Snow to get Yuuto, but that would be good – get out of here, leave this incomprehensible site for a while, then, come back, live in the woods, protect the people, defend the village, and save Konoha from her sick assassins. 

Yes. 

Yes, that’s right.

His mission – be a missing nin – kill – be a monster – kill – be a pariah – kill –

He could do that.

He couldn’t do this – whatever this was –

The ward was angry, spitting chakra back at the ANBU. He wouldn’t kill them, just fly past. Easy. Before that, he’d need to get his mask, his clothes, his weapons – where were they? – where had –

“Kakashi.” A small sound below him. 

His name… So rarely said. Actually, never said. Who’d even say it? 

He hadn’t noticed the fingernails dug deeply into his calf, nor that he was actively hyperventilating, but he abruptly discovered Iruka Umino laid out underneath him, with Kakashi's knee pressing down into the man’s sternum to pin him in place. His hands were pressed together, nearly three-quarters through a Body Flicker jutsu, but he stopped it immediately, trying to assess what had just happened, recognizing something had gone wrong with him. 

But then there were ANBU in the living room. Kakashi rose to his feet, turning still, staring at them. As a part of his patrol, he knew these nin – their strengths, their weaknesses – and he understood the reason why they broke his barrier, why they infiltrated Iruka’s sanctuary. They were hunters, men and women skilled in tracking and trapping humans; they were trained in capturing missing nin. 

He’d evaded them for nine years, but now…

The tension – he could taste it under his mask.

Iruka, however, did not care.

The chūnin was suddenly between them, him and the three ANBU, and his voice was not the small thing from beneath Kakashi, it was disturbingly loud, as loud as Maito Gai when they first met again.

“Don’t! He didn’t mean anything!”

_Oh - but didn’t I?_

He was looking at the back of Iruka’s head, the short dark hairs on the nape of his neck, underneath his bushy ponytail, when the strongest and swiftest of the hunter-nin made her move forward.

Kakashi almost didn’t recognize the feeling – but it cascaded over him like being splashed with boiling water - sizzling away skin - raising thick white blisters - ruddying revealed skin to red death.

Then –

He got it.

The same feeling that haunted him while defending Konoha.

Protectiveness. Possessiveness. His only reason for living, for killing, for dying.

Except now it was with Iruka Umino - who was about to be pushed aside by an ANBU hunter-nin.

There was no need to think - it was all instinct and precise impulse. Before the nin could touch the sensei’s sleeve, he stepped forward, seized the ANBU’s arm mid-air, wrenched it behind her, pressed it against her spine, then dislocated it so severely the limb felt like an inert mannequin’s in his grip. She swallowed air behind porcelain at the onslaught of pain, but Kakashi grabbed her skull and brought her whole body down to the floor, slamming her masked face flat into the wood surface. He picked her head up almost instantaneously – and then did it again until he heard porcelain crack.

She stopped moving. But… she kept breathing.

He returned to standing, staring at the two hunter-nin, who looked between their fallen leader and him, but they were Konoha shinobi, and they had a mission to fulfill, so they stirred into motion.

“Stop it,” Iruka shouted, but this time –

This time it was directed at Kakashi himself. He blinked, taken aback by the chūnin-sensei’s intensity. The man was nearly crying: his dark eyes were brimming with tears in anger and upset. 

Bizarre – Iruka wasn’t worried at the ANBU at his back – he was worried about –

_Oh._

In response, Kakashi fell into a slouch, shoved his hands in his pockets, and swept into still silence. His surrender was evident to the ANBU, who paused in stride and exchanged rapid sign language with one another. Of course he understood the soundless conversation, but Iruka wouldn’t. That didn’t matter, though, because the chūnin was looking only at him, up the few inches that separated them, at the same time that he very carefully brought his hands to rest on Kakashi’s arms. 

Iruka was crying now. 

Kakashi was jealous of the unconscious hunter-nin: he wanted a way to avoid Iruka’s expression. He felt wholly defeated. Broken down to his bones, each one, every one, like they’d collectively betrayed him. Bitter adrenaline in his mouth. Burning wood in his brain, his thoughts disintegrating into ash.

But he would endure. He had to. He’d failed. He failed Iruka.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when Iruka composed himself, wiped away tears off his scarred cheek, and then turned around, negotiating with the ANBU hunter-nin. It should have gone poorly, but clearly the new Hokage had bestowed certain powers on the chūnin-sensei. So instead, Iruka was partially apologizing, partially scolding, and entirely persuasive, to the point the ANBU shuffled on their feet, glowering at Kakashi over Iruka’s shoulders before picking up their deposed team leader. 

He watched as one of them tested out her health – and found her alive, as Kakashi had intended.

They vanished, leaving him and Iruka.

He wanted to make a ward, but it was Iruka who fluttered through the hand motions. The barrier wasn’t strong enough to prevent Akatsuki, but no one would disrupt them after this interaction. 

It was a knife across his throat when Iruka turned around and faced him again. 

“What was that?” the other man demanded of him, disbelieving, radiating disappointment. “What is with you today?” Horrifically, Iruka wasn’t touching him; he was keeping place, several feet away. It was just as terrible as his weeping… even though the chūnin wasn’t doing that anymore. He was now a stalwart solid force as he gritted out, “I don’t understand. Explain to me what is happening.”

… impossible.

Completely impossible.

How to ask –

To say –

_You make me weak._

_Am I dirtying you?_

_Please - I can’t tell anymore – does my life belong to Konoha – or to you?_

Instead of that, though, Kakashi heard himself ask aloud at an aching pitch, brittle and volatile, as he stared at Iruka, trying to restrain himself from shaking all over: “What did last night mean to you?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are just so sweet with feedback, it's easy to write more! Thank you for your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions. You're such good people and so inspire so much.  
> ___

He regretted it as soon as he said it.

The shaking stopped; Kakashi solidified at once. All of his questions disappeared from his mind. In their stead was an emptiness so real that it seemed visible, like looking down at endless dark water. There was nothing, just a vast void, an absolute abyss. His sudden fear transitioned into self-defense.

Iruka went from staring hard at him to becoming ever softer. His scar seemed to unravel like twine. Dark eyes burning hot with disappointment cooled with concern. The familiar look of worry returned on the man’s face, but, this time, it had no effect on Kakashi, who watched with the equal distance as a crow circling high in the sky. The activated Sharingan throbbed in his skull, dull and pulsing and uninterrupted; his chakra pathways flickered fatigued but could work more if needed.

He observed Iruka cross the living room in a careful approach - Iruka lift his arm slow and steady off his side - Iruka interlace their fingers and bring their hands together with increasing resolve. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you too much,” the stunning chūnin said. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” 

It was like Iruka was in a panel in a comic book. The man was fictional. A figure. A character. 

Saying lines.

Kakashi had no response, because this was imaginary, and there was nothing to say. He felt unreal. As much as he had thought this was a genjutsu, he understood now: this was a creation of his mind. His broken mind. His monstrous mind. He’d made a man to rescue him, tame him, bring him home. 

Iruka Umino was ideal: strong-bodied, dark-eyed, devoted. Even now, the chūnin – _of course he’s chūnin – jōnin can’t be trusted - surely not ANBU_ \- looked up at him so appealingly. The man was so perfectly crafted, this false creation of his. Of course Kakashi had fallen for him.

He considered when this had happened, why he had conjured Iruka Umino.

Well, he’d been lonely.

… a bit suicidal.

Knowing soon it would be ten years.

Ten years on this mission, ten years of being missing nin.

Then Naruto’s teacher appeared, the only other man worried about Minato and Kushina’s son. So now the boy would be not abandoned. He was adopted by his sensei, given direction in life. Why the Hokage had deserted Naruto mystified Kakashi… It was not his place to question the village leader, but he saw the boy’s poverty and the way the other children bullied him as he failed the most basic jutsus year after year. Kakashi raged inside, but his assignment was to defend Konoha, not one child.

Iruka yelling at Naruto – that was not so good-natured. He was a furious creature. So confusing, too.

Strange that… Kakashi would… create something like that. 

He blinked.

_Oh… This is real._ Kakashi hummed very low and shifted his fingers over Iruka’s. The Sharingan purred with pleasure at the parallel, the matching mirror of their hands together. The image was the same as when they first met in the woods, when he’d thrown Iruka to the forest floor.

“I’m having a psychotic break,” he announced, glancing from their hands up to Iruka’s startled eyes. His tone was entirely calm, but he was truly well-aware that he had started trembling everywhere. “You should call the Hokage. She’s a medical-nin. She’ll be able to sort this out.”

Iruka seemed not to hear him at first.

Then he did. At that point, Kakashi felt very fucking real, because Iruka nails dug into Kakashi’s skin just as they’d done back in the woods, sharp and keen and honest, and raw crazed alarm screamed over his scarred expression, and then they were out the door and in the dusty streets of Konoha.

It was so dizzying – suddenly being outside – in broad daylight – that Kakashi stopped breathing. Certainly rushing through the village he was supposedly traitor to – that didn’t help his confusion. His organic eye closed while the Sharingan absorbed everything around him, distressed, shocked. Very occasionally, a Konoha shinobi would recognize him, his mask and silver hair and Obito’s dōjutsu, and they’d do a double-take or jump out of the way or look in panicked surprise at Iruka.

But Iruka did not care. He was dragging Kakashi through Konoha towards the Hokage.

If ANBU were watching, they didn’t intervene. 

He was passing out from oxygen deprivation when Iruka burst into the Lady Hokage’s office. She was on her feet, followed by her assistant. All three were trading heated hurried words, then Kakashi was watching Tsunade the Fifth Hokage from inches away as the sannin dealt again with his psyche.

The sentiment shaking in Iruka’s facial features as relieving dark slumber fell over Kakashi…

_Please… Please don’t look so sad._

He woke up with a start seemingly a moment later. They were back in the hospital room, the one that he’d rested comatose for so long. He recognized the cracks in the right corner of the ceiling. It was the same space, but circumstances were different, which he knew because now - this time –

Iruka was not surrounded by ANBU and the new Hokage.

The chūnin was curled under Kakashi’s arm, completely asleep in the hospital bed.

How could he think that he imagined Iruka Umino…? It was obvious the man was real. Flesh-and-blood real, heartbeat gentle in his chest, warmth emanating him like a much-beloved campfire. There was darkness under his eyes, like he’d tried to stay awake, resisting until exhaustion took him. Both of them were attired the same as what they’d worn at breakfast and lunch… but how much time had passed between their rush through Konoha and now was not immediately apparent.

Kakashi had no way to tell time in this room: it purposefully had no windows. He associated this room with destiny… the next stage of his miserable life… the very rare possibility of something…

Something good.

He wasn’t sure what Tsunade had done to him, but she had undeniably settled his thoughts. Perhaps he was having a panic attack and not a psychotic break. Perhaps he was having both simultaneously. 

Sometimes Kakashi had lost it in the woods, when he became too lonesome, or killed someone on accident, or remembered it was Rin’s birthday. Usually he just burned out like a candle flame. Let himself collapse inwards like a building on fire. The others would avoid him; they’d leave him alone. 

Sometimes they didn’t stay away… or came back early, thinking things were settled.

But when it wasn’t done - Kakashi clarified that with violence.

That was when he broke Tenzo’s bones, when he terrified Yuuto and almost killed him. 

Hmmm. Instead of breaking Iruka… Kakashi’d deftly disabled him and tried to leave. Then, shaken awake by the man calling his name, he’d had started to shift back to reality. If only the ANBU hunter-nin had not arrived… he might have made it to rationality without much more effort. Still, he’d had more clarity this time, made a definite identification of his state of mind, his instability. 

Ah, there was such warmth between them.

His sigh was effortless. The embrace was easy to deepen; he pulled Iruka further into his chest. Clearly, some time had passed after all: he realized he no longer felt chakra exhausted in the slightest. Strangely, he felt relieved, like he’d finally got a full night’s sleep after nine years. His single-eyed gaze glided up to the ceiling, considering the cracked white plaster as he snuggled closer with Iruka. 

He remembered falling into Iruka’s arms after the Third Hokage was killed, after he’d exhausted himself fighting Sound nin while back-to-back with Gai, after sending his team in all directions. There had been some of this calm, even if it had been drenched in smoke and bloodshed. Having overused the Sharingan, and sustained such an interesting array of injuries, he’d still succeeded in clutching at Gai’s spandex and demanding of his oldest surviving friend, “Iruka – get me to Iruka.”

If there was a place he wanted to die – it was in Iruka’s arms.

It felt nice.

Warm.

Like this.

He woke up again, this time his head groggy, his mouth desperately dry. Their surroundings were entirely different - they were no longer in the hospital, let alone that particular room. Where they were – it was a very familiar place now. It was Iruka’s bedroom. The bedsheets were the same as when Kakashi had flown wounded into the apartment, fully expecting to die at the chūnin-sensei’s feet. The cloth smelled like the other man… like rosemary and sage… like the soap that Iruka used. 

Mmm.

Like home.

Feeling very peculiar, Kakashi rolled on his back and lazily stretched his arms over his head. 

“You look comfortable.”

… He threw the nightstand lamp across the room in surprise.

Fortunately, Iruka dodged expertly, but the lamp did not survive its improvised use as artillery. Both of them stared at the broken glass on the floor – and then at the same time looked at each other. Utterly mortified by his action, Kakashi had no clue the right reaction, but Iruka acted without worry by breaking into laughter, doubling over and laughing so hard that tears came to his eyes.

Instead of falling into embarrassment, Kakashi shyly watched Iruka laugh himself silly.

He felt it again…

The urge to smile.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

So he decided to do something just as absurd.

Spreading out one hand across the bed, Kakashi tugged down his mask with the other. As Iruka eased back to standing while still smiling, he noticed the movement and paused, looking intrigued. 

Kakashi was quiet when he spoke, but he asked for it nonetheless.

“Can you come here and kiss me?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delay. My country is on fire. I hope you are safe. Know that I write for you, that your words to me inspire me, that your words will me to write even in the darkest of times. I truly hope you enjoy this update. 
> 
> ____

He had never asked for a kiss before.

There was a surreal moment, where, just for a second, he thought Iruka might disappear. Evaporate into rain, flood the flooring. Not a noisy rejection – no. Iruka could walk away, silently showing his disinterest. 

It was a risk. A battlefield risk. To offer himself up like this. To open his hand, reaching out for someone else. Only it wasn’t just someone else. It was this man alone. This strange divine creature, who was too reckless in his care and too merciless in his attention. Although Kakashi had no pride, and his ego was nonexistent, he did have self-preservation woven into his veins like braided thread. All of his instincts told him to pull back his hand. To shut off. To turn down his expression. To retreat to the woods outside the village. To wait for reinforcements to conclude the confrontation. 

But he smelled rosemary and sage in the air, he saw how Iruka’s brown eyes widened at his offering.

His heart throbbed in his throat as Iruka slowly strode forward. The man was graceless, but his movements were intentional and powerful, because he meant them. He meant every step forward. 

Kakashi’s eyelashes fluttered involuntarily when Iruka brushed over his shoulders with both hands, the act almost questioning what he could do, what they could be. Kakashi shifted a little, refuting his habit of staying still, and leaned into the man’s hand, keeping eye contact as best he could. 

Under Iruka’s touch, he fell apart.

Years of stress had crusted into his skin. Rage inflamed his nerves, radiating pain. Anxiety paralyzed his facial muscles, killed his expression. Altogether, they had ruined him, stripped him down into a skeleton shinobi, patrolling undead around Konoha as her missing nin, her monster murderously protecting the people. 

Yet, here, with Iruka…

Kakashi knew his eyelids were closed, but he felt no fear for what Iruka might do. He understood the other man was slowly pushing him down onto the bed. He recognized Iruka’s warm lips on his scarred cheek, on his throat, then on whatever the skin that the chūnin exposed as he undressed Kakashi, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

As Iruka traced the sunken line of skin where the rogue samurai had slid cold metal into his abdomen, Kakashi opened his eye, his own eye, and watched the man taking time to memorize him. 

Dreams had a similar feeling to this moment: swaying hazy and out-of-body, distant yet so close and intimate, inexplicable things, wonderful things. A man as good as Iruka Umino wanting him to feel...

To feel just as good as Iruka’s own soul.

Iruka was so very dangerous… he was the most dangerous thing that Kakashi had ever encountered. Kakashi had fallen for him as swiftly as the wind shifted, and he’d surrendered everything in his life for the other man, barely even thinking about it, scarcely even noticing that he’d done so. Even though Iruka was not jōnin or Akatsuki, he was crueler… His eyes lifted to Kakashi’s fearlessly, and his kisses pressed over dark scars and white skin with remorseless ease. His tongue was poisonous, putting Kakashi down into a dream state, and his careful undressing was so peaceful that Kakashi could only watch and wait.

Here they were again.

Iruka kissed the side of Kakashi’s cock – and it spread light through him, waking him up like the dawn.

But, unlike last time, he let the man do what he wanted. He ignored the past, its creep, its claws. Instead, he allowed Iruka to be the only thing in his mind, the only person in existence. At the very minimum, it was two of them, together, alive, as Iruka laved love on him in such a soul-shivering way… 

The sight of his own cock, flushed red, disappearing into Iruka’s mouth, past those enticing lips…

Warmth curled inside Kakashi. He shuddered and gripped the bedsheets with shaking bare hands. Not feeling the need to control his expression, his lips parted in a wordless inhale. He weakly looked down at the man between his thighs, disbelief struggling to overwhelm him. Iruka’s mouth around him was warm, wet, tight… just what he wanted, just what he’d always imagined in his dreams, but it was here, truly real, rolling hot tension up his core. His filthy urge to push upwards into Iruka’s welcoming heat was so tragically tempting, his animalistic drive fighting to overcome his adoration. 

Instead, he lifted his back off the bed and threaded his fingers through Iruka’s loose hair.

Their gazes were joined as Iruka kept swallowing his cock, and – 

Kakashi had never experienced anything like it in his life. Everything with Iruka was so new. It seemed like he’d never known a thing until now – every moment with Iruka was something else entirely – like his life was a series of dull grey stone steps before finally discovering the brilliant majesty that was the edifice of Iruka Umino. 

Plus, the man sucked cock like they were going to die in the next five minutes. It was bewildering. Completely fucking bewildering. Even in his keenest state of mind, Kakashi would have found it totally incomprehensible. As it was, he was still recovering, so Iruka licking long lovely lines on the underside of his cock made Kakashi think he had never actually lived until this very fucking moment.

He tried to say something, his fingers shakily entangled in Iruka’s brown hair, trying to warn him.

But Iruka’s eyes flashed like they were activated Sharingan.

Dangerous. So very dangerous.

Kakashi bowed over both of them as he came hard in Iruka’s mouth, forcing his cock even further inside, half intentionally, half lost the moment. He heard his voice and his desperate erratic gasps, but he couldn’t entirely believe it, that all those sensitive uncontrolled sounds were coming from him. 

He was unthinking as he pulled Iruka upwards into a kiss, surrendering every last thing to the man. Even though he’d thought he had already done that, no, this – this was it – he was breathless, shaky, committing everything he could into their kiss, giving up everything that he’d ever had within him.

Everything – 

Everything to Iruka.

And the man just took all of it, accepting the power and the weakness and the unspoken promises.

Kakashi felt damn clueless when Iruka tore away from him and kissed him roughly under his right ear, saying in a low wounded whisper, “Kakashi, you are so beautiful, I want to – I wish we could-” As he tried to turn to look at the man, they moved at the same time. Only refined reflexes saved them from a bad collision of skulls. Flustered from pleasure, swept away by the moment, Kakashi had little ability to follow Iruka’s logic, but he understood well enough what was going on when Iruka’s smoldering eyes caught his single one once again. 

Although he knew little of romance, Kakashi knew the meaning of that look.

So Iruka wanted to fuck him.

It might have been alarming - except Iruka was clearly in hand-to-hand combat with his need. The chūnin was clutching at Kakashi’s covered back like close contact would somehow relax his want, not make it all the stronger. Their cheeks, both scarred, such different shades, were nearly touching in their embrace; he could see Iruka’s eyes were blown full black they were so dilated with desire. 

How appealing – such true vulnerability.

Kakashi kept them entangled as he reached behind himself, using his wet sex to enter himself. The action must have been clear enough to Iruka – because he seemed to turn into stone as if by a transformation jutsu - then he started trembling in anticipation like the sweetest shyest maiden. It would be the first time Kakashi had done this in over a decade, but he knew the motions. Every ANBU knew how to prepare themselves for mission sex, either with the enemy or with their superior. He’d done both in his early years – each time, his one eye unblinking, his Sharingan on the ready. 

This was not back then…

This was now.

With Iruka.

Yet he still startled forward when Iruka dipped down and kissed his cloth-freed throat. The sensation was bizarre – unexpected – baffling – Kakashi stopped for a second, glancing with his eye at the chūnin now parading kisses across his scarred shoulder. This… was not like the other times… back then there were no soft lips on roughened skin… just unyielding stares and harsh handholds. 

Even now, he felt like prey, and Iruka, the predator. It didn’t matter he had the skills to kill Iruka - or that it would be especially easy in this moment with the chūnin’s guard completely down. Instead, weakness seemed to motivate him. It made him want to open up his body even more. Make himself more helpless. Tear down all his defenses. Let Iruka take him. Let Iruka in. Let him all the way in.

He saw Iruka’s eyes shudder shut, couldn’t understand why that would be. 

But then he heard it – rather, he heard himself.

A moan was running rough out his throat.

A full blush flew up his face: he went still out of instinct, filled with ashamed surprise. But before he could pull his hand away from himself, out of himself, Iruka had snatched the back of his neck and crushed their lips together – just as before, like he prophetically knew the world was soon ending. For some reason, the sensation of their faces and lips wedded – hot, sweaty, shivery – enthused Kakashi’s motionless fingers, and he found himself fucking himself as he and Iruka kissed messily, feverishly.

Of course he noticed when Iruka couldn’t handle it anymore, so he let himself be pushed down.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, since he really couldn’t predict the irrational perfection of Iruka Umino, but he was pleased and relieved when Iruka didn’t flip him over and take him from behind. 

They were looking at each other as Iruka lined up, sunk in, and lovingly breathed out Kakashi’s name.

He…

Oh, he…

He gasped out loud and grasped at Iruka’s back and delved deeply into the man’s sacrificial scar and – he - could – not – think – of - a – single - thing – nothing - at – all - not – one – little – thing – 

He was suddenly blinking ferociously, trying to tell time and his location and any possible threats, when he heard from somewhere nearby -

“Kakashi? Are you awake?”

The room spun, but Kakashi knew not to use Obito’s Sharingan, so he looked around with his own eye to see –

“Iruka?” he murmured, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. Trying to sit up, he found his body worn down like he’d fought another missing nin down a thousand-mile rushing waterfall. Muscles screamed. Bones seemed fractured. His backside – 

As he blushed, realizing what they’d obviously done together, what they’d finally done, Kakashi found Iruka by his side – more specifically, by the bedside. The chūnin looked concerned for him, but also a little… smug? Why would that be? What had happened - ?

Iruka’s palm was soothing on his hot cheek; he thoughtlessly leaned into it, enjoying the touch.

But he was not prepared for Iruka’s next words, which were said softly, tinged with amazement. 

“You completely lost it when we…” 

Although Iruka trailed off, satisfied embarrassment taking its toll, Kakashi was the one that could not sustain his standard demeanor anymore. Blood rushed through every vein and artery, and his brain overloaded with stunning thoughts, and he found himself staring, shocked, appalled, at Iruka.

_He had done what - ?_


End file.
